Opinion & Analysis
I wrote that Charles Keppler and Matt Long closed the door on data centers in Pocono Township. They moved fast. They tightened the ordinance. They stripped the overlay zones. They added decommissioning requirements. I meant every word of it.
But clearly, I was wrong.
The door isn’t closed. It’s not even closing. Not until the vote is cast, the ordinance is adopted, and the overlay district that made all of this possible is formally removed from the books. Until that happens, Core5 Industrial Partners has a live zoning pathway to convert a 702,000-square-foot warehouse at 246 Warner Road into a data center. And every day that pathway stays open is a day their attorneys can file a conditional use application under the rules as they exist right now.
So why aren’t Keppler, Long, and Gnandt pushing harder? The finish line is in sight and they stopped for a water break.
The board scheduled a public hearing for July 20th. That’s 34 days away. Core5’s legal team doesn’t need 34 days. They need an afternoon.
The Clock Favors the Developer
This isn’t theoretical. In Clifton Township, Lackawanna County, a developer filed a legal challenge to the township’s zoning ordinance hours before the township announced it was updating that same ordinance. By filing first, the developer argued the new rules shouldn’t apply to their project. That case is still in court.
Core5’s overlay district was unanimously approved in April 2026. The warehouse is projected for completion Q4 2026. The zoning pathway for data center conversion was created while the building was still going up. If Core5 files before the July 20th hearing, or before whatever date the new ordinance is formally adopted, they will argue the rules at the time of filing govern. And they’ll have case law on their side.
Velardi’s Exit: Chaos, Cover, or Both?
On June 15th, Commissioner Mike Velardi resigned mid-meeting. Two weeks earlier, he called residents “idiots” from the dais. At that same meeting, unprompted, he launched into a defense of data center water usage and told residents Core5 being a data center would actually be fine for the township. Nobody asked. He volunteered it.
Then he walked out — with a prepared speech in hand.
The board was moving to remove data centers from the overlay. Keppler, Long, and Gnandt have the votes. Velardi knew he was going to lose. So what does his resignation actually accomplish?
One possibility: chaos. The board drops to four members. Interviews for the vacancy are tentatively set for July 14th, six days before the July 20th hearing. Someone will argue the board should wait for a full complement before making a major zoning decision. The hearing slips to August. Then September. And every week the overlay stays on the books is another week the door is open.
But there may be a smarter play. Velardi read a prepared statement accusing the board of “saying no to everything, making development impossible, pushing away revenue.” He called their governance “government by grudge.” He framed the removal of development-friendly zoning as politically motivated, not as legitimate land-use planning.
Now imagine Core5’s attorneys in a courtroom six months from now, challenging the overlay removal as arbitrary and capricious. Where do they find their argument? In the public record. Delivered by a sitting commissioner. From the dais. Preserved in the meeting minutes. Velardi didn’t need to block the vote. He needed to poison the record so the vote doesn’t survive a courtroom.
Maybe it was just ego. But the effect is the same: a vacancy that could delay the vote, and a public record that could undermine it in court. That’s a lot of damage for one resignation.
The Process That Protects the Developer
One commissioner said the quiet part out loud at the June 15th meeting: “I just don’t want to drag our heels on this and risk getting hit with a plan for a data center.”
Township Solicitor Leo DeVito laid out the process. And every single piece of advice he gave extended the timeline. He explained that the law requires a 30-day comment window for the planning commission, and the motion was withdrawn. When the board asked about the first meeting in July, Leo steered them to July 20th. He emphasized they’d need to advertise twice, send written notices, and post the property. Then he added this: affected property owners will receive a notice telling them data centers are no longer a permitted use on their property.
Core5, a property owner inside the overlay, will receive a formal letter telling them the window is about to close. That’s a countdown timer delivered to the developer’s mailbox.
Leo framed it as protecting the township from a “procedural challenge.” But the effect is identical to what a developer-friendly attorney would recommend: slow the process, maximize the window, and make sure the developer knows exactly when the door is closing so they can file before it does.
The Votes Are There
Ellen Gnandt voted no on every overlay, every waiver, every LERTA that paved the road for Core5. Alone, 4-1, for years. Now Gnandt, Keppler, and Long are three of the four sitting commissioners. Three votes is a majority on a four-member board. The question isn’t whether the votes are there. It’s whether the vote happens before Core5 files.
Keppler Is Wrong
At a recent meeting, Commissioner Keppler suggested that the tightened regulations, the added costs and additional requirements, would weigh against a developer choosing to pursue data center conversion.
Keppler has done more for this township in weeks than the previous board did in years. But this argument tells me he doesn’t understand how much money is on the other side of the table.
Let’s throw everything the township could possibly charge at a data center developer. Decommissioning bond — $10 million. Environmental and traffic studies — $2 million. Application fees, legal review, engineering — $500,000. Infrastructure improvements — $10 million. Performance bonds, monitoring, inspections — $5 million. Permits — $500,000. That’s $28 million. Double it. $56 million.
I’m not an expert in municipal fee structures. There may be costs I’m not accounting for. Double it again. Make it $112 million. It still doesn’t move the needle.
AWS signed an $18 billion power purchase agreement for one campus. QTS spent $540 million just buying land. Project Gold’s campus carries a $14.25 billion price tag. Prologis is budgeting $7-8 billion in conversions. The exact strategy this article describes. The township’s $112 million fantasy invoice is less than one percent of a single project’s value. It’s not a deterrent. It’s a convenience fee.
These companies don’t get discouraged by township fees. They get discouraged by outright denial. Which is exactly what the July 20th hearing is supposed to deliver. If it happens on time.
What’s Really at Stake
I could be wrong about all of this. Core5 could be exactly what it says it is. The 296 dock doors, the reinforced slab, the 70 surplus acres, the PPL parcel next door. All coincidence.
Maybe. But tens of millions were spent putting that building on Warner Road. The overlay that opened 315 acres to data center use didn’t happen by accident. That took planning, legal work, and a board willing to vote 4-1 while one commissioner said no alone for years. That’s a lot of resources committed to a warehouse.
If this isn’t a warehouse, if the warehouse was always the wrapper and the data center was always the product, then the investment to get here was a down payment on billions. And when billions are on the table, ask yourself what people are willing to do to protect that.
How much does it cost to influence a zoning vote in a small township? How much money does it actually take to make someone compromise their morals? In a region where township boards are staffed by part-time volunteers, the answer is: not nearly as much as you’d think.
This is the kind of money that makes people do things they wouldn’t normally do.
How a Deceived Town Can Fight Back
If the specs prove intent to convert from day one, then every permit on file was obtained for a use the developer never planned to operate long-term. Every impact study evaluated a warehouse. A data center exceeds every one of those metrics by orders of magnitude.
If the permitted use was a shell for the intended use, the township has grounds to argue the original approvals were procured through material misrepresentation. The township can demand the entire process start over: new environmental review, new traffic study, new water impact analysis, as if no prior approval ever existed. Core5’s sunk costs become their problem, not their leverage.
The Only Question Left
The votes exist. Gnandt, Keppler, and Long can remove data centers from the overlay with or without a fifth seat filled. The leverage the township holds only works if the board acts before Core5 files.
It’s whether Keppler, Long, and Gnandt are going to push. And whether the voters of Pocono Township are going to demand it.
The door is closing. But closing isn’t closed. And the people on the other side of that door have $18 billion reasons to walk through it before it shuts.
Are you going to let them?